The Small Cuts
by Peg Pelvis Pete
Summary: Kit strides into the dusty arena of Sanhaven confidently. The guild is watching, and her future is on the line. Ready to escape the wretched life of a commoner in Northern Shear, Kit readies her self to fight the local champion. Is this her chance?
1. Chapter 1

The Small Cuts

The gladiator strode forth, a cloud of dust following in his wake and beads of sweat rolling down his chest in the scalding sun. His helmet's visor kept the blinding rays from his eyes and the creature's skin, thickened from years of training in the Shear's harsh climate, offered some protection from the burning orbs intensity. He breathed in deeply, his scarred chest expanding massively; he had made it through four battles and defeated all his challengers. Krog was a half giant, large in frame and bulk, a good combination for the rigorous life of a gladiator, one of the few professions a person of his kind could pursue. He lifted his hammer to the air and shouted, the excited crowd of desert peasants and merchants cheering at his victory. The stain of his opponent's dust caked blood was splayed across his hammer's head. _Today was a good day_, he thought, but stopped as out of the corner of his eye he saw his next and final challenger approach from the gates.

Kit eyed the massive creature with her dark green eyes as she stopped 20 paces away from him, two short curved daggers hanging loosely from her delicate hands. She was a short athletically built woman in her early twenties; her attractive face and short cropped blonde hair marred by the dust and dirt common to towns around the Shear. A small scar was drawn horizontally under her left eye and small bone rings dangled from her earlobes. Her garments consisted of a form-fitting leather tank top with a pair of loose brown pants overlapped by knee-high laced boots suited for desert life.

Her eyes flicked up to the stands. Ignoring the cheering crowds, her emerald eyes focused on a hooded man standing amongst the horde of dirty townsfolk. Aware of her gaze, he raised his hand to the sky revealing a red eye tattooed upon his palm, the signal that the guild was watching. _Now was her chance_, the guild could give her the life she wanted if they deemed her skilled enough to function as one of their skilled treasure hunters, a title she desperately wanted. She had lived her whole life on the filthy streets of Sanhaven. Now was her time to break free of that poverty. She adjusted her three belts, the lot of them carrying a total of twelve daggers in various sizes, her specialty weapons. A gong sounded through the jeering crowd signaling the start of the match, she gripped her trusty daggers and loosened her body for combat.

With scrutiny, the giant-kin sized up the light framed young human woman who was his new opponent. He had fought women before, but most of them were savage Halflings or Orc women from the north, and none of them wielding daggers. He gripped his enormous hammer firmly in his hands and yelled powerfully; surely he could defeat such a small woman he laughed to himself. He charged at his opponent, his massive feet thundering against the packed dirt of the arena.

Kit waited patiently for the giant to make his first swing, her light build steady and laced with readiness. The woman lithely dodged the large hammer's first swing and slipped around it, slicing two neat marks across the huge man's forearms as she shifted behind him. The large half-breed spun around, laughing at the insignificant cuts across his arms. The thin lines had begun to bleed, but to his thick skin the wounds seemed superficial. He swung slowly and powerfully at the small woman. However, quickly and efficiently she dodged his attacks, all the while leaving numerous and precise rose ribbons across his body, her short dusty blond hair feathering in the breeze. Kit's jade eyes darted around judging each strike with precision; she had trained hard on the streets, and her experience as a highway bandit served her well. Each one of her measured cuts perfect and intentional. She smiled, the big ones were always the easiest, _the bigger they are the harder they fall_ she mused. Kit quickly hopped away from the giant assessing her damage and grinning slyly, her trap of tiny blades had sprung perfectly, the huge creature's chest and arms had been crosshatched with a plethora of neat red lines which were beginning to bleed heavily.

Krog licked his cracked lips, the sun seemed to beat down more harshly than before and his legs had begun to feel sluggish. Exhausted, he breathed heavily and looked down through the mesh of his helmet, his hammer uncharacteristically heavy in his hands. When did he get so bloody? He had felt fine a moment ago, but now his breath seemed shallow and his arms felt as though they were dragging through water. He looked up at the young woman to see she was smiling slightly and had relaxed her combat pose, as though the fight was over. She wiped her blades across her loose tan pants and sheathed them. Still smiling coyly, she turned away from him and began to walk towards the arena's exit.

_She turned away_!

Rage flooded Krog as he raised his body, it felt slow and stiff, but pumped full of adrenaline his wounds began to bother him less. No small woman would defeat him, _not the champion of the Sanhaven arena_! He charged, warhammer poised to strike; his corded muscles rippled with anger. He was satisfied to see that the lightly built desert woman was apparently unaware of her danger. Unfortunately for Krog, it had been another trap. Like a small desert lizard Kit deftly spun, a small dagger already prepared in her hand. It flew through the air quickly, lodging itself deep into the giant's throat. He stumbled towards her and finally fell into the dust, pale and soaked in blood. Kit had become accustomed to the bloody corpses of her enemies, the sheer amount of it being her calling card. She didn't enjoy killing _people_, but the sensation she felt when wielding her daggers was indescribable. Although not a cruel hearted person, the look on her once cocky enemies face as they realized their doom? Priceless, well almost priceless.

He had thought her soft without armor, unthreatening without a large weapon, and that had been her plan all along. After retrieving her dagger from the pale and gasping half giant, Kit looked up to the audience, the scalding sun beating down on her sweating form from a unforgiving and cloudless, sand hazed, blue sky. She found the hooded figure had disappeared, but she was not surprised; the trade of a treasure hunter was an illegal one and their members were nothing if not secretive. If the guild accepted her performance she would be contacted in secret at a time of their choosing. If not, well, that wasn't an option she was willing to consider.


	2. Chapter 2: Ackward Aquaintances

Naiche Washburn

Short Fiction

12/17/09

The Small Cuts

The gods must pay.

No, the gods will pay. Too long had she merely waited for the right opportunity, too many years wasted idly brooding, plotting, and festering in her own hatred. Silently she rose from her throne, a regal seat hewn from skulls, obsidian, and blood red crystal, gliding across the floor over to the enormous artifact in the center of her throne room. The palace was an immense fortress, hidden away in the deep northern ice wasteland. Beyond the reach of man, guarded by natural dangers and beasts of monstrous size and ferocity, merely traveling to her castle was a feat that could slay the mightiest of armies.

Carved out of demonic crystal, obsidian, and living bone it stuck out among the swirling white expanse like a hole to hell itself. Massive ogres, trolls, and other fearsome beasts of nightmarish quality and quantity manned its defenses, all scarred and battered by the perpetual screaming wind. Hell borne beasts, fields of razor sharp wind battered ice, and lakes of bottomless, black, frigid water solidified the castle's perimeter and the preserved frozen corpses of mighty heroes that littered the barren land. The castle itself was home to thousands of goblins, gnolls, and orcs; slave worshipers of their goddess. Frigid, deadly, and heartless as the land her home was built upon. Large demons prowled the battlements and depths of the mines, forges, and dark recesses of the castle, errant servants from Rin's many demonic patrons. The mountain like fortress was a labyrinth, immense in size and riddled with danger. And beneath the icy exterior a furnace of flames, lava, and forges pounded away at weapons of war and tools of death.

Her throne room was dark, ornately sculpted, and decorated with smoldering braziers, perverse angelic statutes, and a swirling black marble floor. The center of the room was defined by a large black crystal, seemingly restrained from growing out of the floor at a slightly bent angle by thick runed chains. Before it stood a solid gold sculpture of a demon, about waist high kneeling while carrying a large chalice filled with blood upon its back. Dipping the tip of her long black fingernail into the blood, she drew up a droplet and silently whispered into it, speaking some language long forgotten by man. She flicked her finger, splattering the face of the stone and waited. A slight glow began to pulse from the heart of the crystal, the blood red light filtering through and revealing the stone's dark veins with each deep rumbling heartbeat. The light in the room seemed to dim towards blackness as though she was fainting and she felt the will of the rock tug against her soul, its maddening whispers silently echoing in the back of her mind, urging her, cooing her into its depths.

This was the heart of Kal'Bogran, an ancient artifact ripped from the chest of a forgotten god. Its dark depths held the souls of countless demons, monsters, and aberrations from planes of existence beyond the mortal means to understand. It housed more dark power within itself than a layer of the nine hells and its meer presence could drive thousands into insane depravity.

Fighting against its waves of exhausting mental hunger, Rin drove her will into its heart and commanded it. "_Bring me the Fallen Three_." Three unearthly screams of hatred exploded in her mind. Her mind felt as if it was going to burst as four unearthly powers of death and malice assaulted the core of her being. But her soul would not be so easily stolen; Rin was a fallen angel, a death knight, the Queen of Sorrow. Rin was the mortal who had escaped the gods and the swirling bowls of hell with the sheer force of her rage. Rin was the fourth Queen of Undeath, a thousand year old legend, the atropal scion of destruction. A being born with no purpose other than to slay the gods that betrayed her so long ago.

…+++…

The gladiator strode forth, a cloud of dust following in his wake and beads of sweat rolling down his chest in the scalding sun. His helmet's visor kept the blinding rays from his eyes and the creature's skin, thickened from years of training in the Shear's harsh climate, offered some protection from the burning orbs intensity. He breathed in deeply, his scarred chest expanding massively; he had made it through four battles and defeated all his challengers. Krog was a half giant, large in frame and bulk, a good combination for the rigorous life of a gladiator, one of the few professions a person of his kind could pursue. He lifted his hammer to the air and shouted, the excited crowd of desert peasants and merchants cheering at his victory. The stain of his opponent's dust caked blood was splayed across his hammer's head. _Today was a good day_, he thought, but stopped as out of the corner of his eye he saw his next and final challenger approach from the gates.

…+…

Kit eyed the massive creature with her dark green eyes as she stopped 20 paces away from him, two short curved daggers hanging loosely from her delicate hands. She was a short athletically built woman in her early twenties; her attractive face and short cropped blonde hair marred by the dust and dirt common to towns around the Shear. A small scar was drawn horizontally under her left eye and small bone rings dangled from her earlobes. Her garments consisted of a form-fitting leather tank top with a pair of loose brown pants overlapped by knee-high laced boots suited for desert life.

Her eyes flicked up to the stands. Ignoring the cheering crowds, her emerald eyes focused on a hooded man standing amongst the horde of dirty townsfolk. Aware of her gaze, he raised his hand to the sky revealing a red eye tattooed upon his palm, the signal that the guild was watching. _Now was her chance_, the guild could give her the life she wanted if they deemed her skilled enough to function as one of their skilled treasure hunters, a title she desperately wanted. She had lived her whole life on the filthy streets of Sanhaven. Now was her time to break free of that poverty. She adjusted her three belts, the lot of them carrying a total of twelve daggers in various sizes, her specialty weapons. A gong sounded through the jeering crowd signaling the start of the match, she gripped her trusty daggers and loosened her body for combat.

…+…

With scrutiny, the giant-kin sized up the light framed young human woman who was his new opponent. He had fought women before, but most of them were savage Halflings or Orc women from the north, and none of them wielding daggers. He gripped his enormous hammer firmly in his hands and yelled powerfully; surely he could defeat such a small woman he laughed to himself. He charged at his opponent, his massive feet thundering against the packed dirt of the arena.

…+…

Kit waited patiently for the giant to make his first swing, her light build steady and laced with readiness. The woman lithely dodged the large hammer's first swing and slipped around it, slicing two neat marks across the huge man's forearms as she shifted behind him. The large half-breed spun around, laughing at the insignificant cuts across his arms. The thin lines had begun to bleed, but to his thick skin the wounds seemed superficial. He swung slowly and powerfully at the small woman. However, quickly and efficiently she dodged his attacks, all the while leaving numerous and precise rose ribbons across his body, her short dusty blond hair feathering in the breeze. Kit's jade eyes darted around judging each strike with precision; she had trained hard on the streets, and her experience as a highway bandit served her well. Each one of her measured cuts perfect and intentional. She smiled, the big ones were always the easiest, _the bigger they are the harder they fall,_ she mused. Kit quickly hopped away from the giant assessing her damage and grinning slyly, her trap of tiny blades had sprung perfectly, and the huge creature's chest and arms had been crosshatched with a plethora of neat red lines which were beginning to bleed heavily.

…+…

Krog licked his cracked lips, the sun seemed to beat down more harshly than before and his legs had begun to feel sluggish. Exhausted, he breathed heavily and looked down through the mesh of his helmet, his hammer uncharacteristically heavy in his hands. When did he get so bloody? He had felt fine a moment ago, but now his breath seemed shallow and his arms felt as though they were dragging through water. He looked up at the young woman to see she was smiling slightly and had relaxed her combat pose, as though the fight was over. She wiped her blades across her loose tan pants and sheathed them. Still smiling coyly, she turned away from him and began to walk towards the arena's exit.

_She turned away_!

Rage flooded Krog as he raised his body, it felt slow and stiff, but pumped full of adrenaline his wounds began to bother him less. No small woman would defeat him, _not the champion of the Sanhaven arena_! He charged, warhammer poised to strike; his corded muscles rippled with anger. He was satisfied to see that the lightly built desert woman was apparently unaware of her danger. Unfortunately for Krog, it had been another trap. Like a small desert lizard Kit deftly spun, a small dagger already prepared in her hand. It flew through the air quickly, lodging itself deep into the giant's throat. He stumbled towards her and finally fell into the dust, pale and soaked in blood. Kit had become accustomed to the bloody corpses of her enemies, the sheer amount of blood being her calling card. She didn't enjoy killing _people_, but the sensation she felt when wielding her daggers was indescribable. Although not a cruel hearted person, the look on her once cocky enemies face as they realized their doom? Priceless, well, usually priceless.

…+…

He had thought her soft without armor, unthreatening without a large weapon, and that had been her plan all along. After retrieving her dagger from the pale and gasping half giant, Kit looked up to the audience, the scalding sun beating down on her sweating form from a unforgiving and cloudless, sand hazed, blue sky. She found the hooded figure had disappeared, but she was not surprised; the trade of a treasure hunter was an illegal one and their members were nothing if not secretive. If the guild accepted her performance she would be contacted in secret at a time of their choosing. If not, well, that wasn't an option she was willing to consider.

…+++…

Kit followed the dingy street for several minutes; The constant cloud of dust hanging low to the ground and obscuring the feet of the many travelers and street dwellers. The market was a busy place during the day but was still was one of the faster ways to travel across the city. Sanhaven had a spider street system that weaved through the various shoddy stores buildings and businesses but most of the large and important avenues connected to the market street. As usual, the blaring sun beat harshly off the desert city, so most wares were shaded under a linen tarp or over hang and most people wore light colored shawls or cloaks to avoid the harsh rays. Sanhaven was mostly populated by humans but the occasional dwarf, half giant, and half orc could be spotted among them. A recent rise in shifter population had also grown and more and more were scene acting as bodyguards or traders.

Clutching her tattered cloak around her, a good wall against cutpurses as well as the sun, Kit put her brilliant green eyes to work searching for a specific alleyway. The mixture of aromas blasted her nostrils. Exotic spices, animals, leathers, and cooking street foods all over laden with the enduring scent of dust and sweat pervaded the crowded road as Kit muscled her way towards her destination. As she traveled Kit was silently amused by the mixture of looks and expressions she garnered when she made eye contact. Some people wouldn't give her a passing glance, some men would, and the occasional person would recognize her from the arena and either back away or try to get a closer glimpse. Kit gave all of them the same reaction. A cold deadly stare. From years of growing up on the street, Kit had mastered the mixed look of _touch me and die _and the look of _wow, I could kill you easily._ Most of the time it worked, people avoided her, and that was just what she wanted.

Shuffling through a crowd of half orc merchants bickering over the price of some obsidian bricks, Kit made her way into an inconspicuous alley tucked away between two melon stands. Strolling through the refreshingly cool alley, Kit stopped next to a collection of barrels and wood planks. Based on their arrangement and the correctly placed cracked brick, this was the place she was to meet the guild. Sliding one of the wood planks to the ground Kit withdrew a small hexagonal tile from her pouch. The small clay piece fit in the palm of her hand nicely and was simply identified by a red eye symbol etched into its surface. Small runes circled the edge and against all inspection it seemed to be nothing more than a small tile. Not completely sure what she was doing, with her limited experience with magic, Kit licked her lips and braced her self as she snapped the small tile and said the keyword.

_Garrow`sol_

The tile broke neatly in two with a loud snap reminiscent of a breaking bone. A blue spark danced out over and between her fingers and then shot into the E shaped crack in the damaged brick. Always uncomfortable with magic, Kit braced herself as she walked through the now hopefully ethereal brick wall.

…+…

The feeling was short, as though breaking through the surface of a pool of water, and then gone, aside from a faint tingling sensation. She opened her eyes and ready for anything with hands on the steady hilts of her daggers, but found herself in a wide and well furnished hall. People of various races, colors, and fashions milled about each of their own purpose, some exiting through the various doors that lined the walls. The heads of many great beasts and creatures Kit had never seen before lay suspended from them as well; each locked perpetually in a terrifying grimace. A large fireplace dominated the center and the strong flickering glow of many torches kept the room quite well lit and warm. The Hall was circular with the doors on the outer rim facing inward and with an indented center with stairs leading into it which housed places to sit, round tables, and a great amount of people conversing around the fire. The hall also had four hallways leading out the left, right, front, and back which appeared to lead to other parts of this great and mysterious building. Looking up she got the impression that they were underground due to the ceiling being made of stone, but other than that had no idea where this hall actually was, as it was much larger than the building she fell into. Her awe was short lived however as a small gnome bumped into her thigh.

"Oops, sorry!" He apologized, staring up at her with large luminous black eyes. "I was very excited you see and wasn't paying attention. I got a whole bag of hag's eyes for very cheap just now, look! Isn't that fantastic!"

Kit disdainfully glanced in the bag that the little creature so forcefully thrust at her, eyes agleam with gnomish joy. She covered her mouth and coughed, her stomach turning a little at the slimy mess squooshing around noisily in the bag.

"Well. Isn't it great?" He continued to stare, toothy grin frozen on his face, eagerly awaiting her response.

She looked around desperately for some miracle to save her; Kit had no idea what to do. No one had ever been this innocently interested in her opinion before and she was honestly frightened by the spontaneous friendliness. It had been at least ten seconds and the gnome hadn't moved an inch, as if he would be frozen there indefinitely until she answered. Didn't. Even. Blink. His eyes quivered from the lack of moisture.

Panicking she looked around for a destination across the room and said, "Yeah…thats great but, err I'm really busy. Um, Bye," and half ran away from the tiny man, ignoring his enthusiastic response. She stopped around a corner to catch her breath, embarrassed, flustered, and confused. Why would he ask her that? What the hell is a hag's eye? Did she look like someone who wanted to chat? Apparently her cold stare didn't work on gnomes. She'd have to fix that. Sighing, she leaned against the wall to relax, closing her eyes and attempting to calm down.

"Excuse me, but are you Kit?"

She almost screamed as she jumped in surprise, she hadn't felt so vulnerable in a long time. Regaining her composure she turned to the person and gave her an uncaring nod, followed by her _what of it?_ look, trying as hard as she could to restore her cool and indomitable façade. The first thing Kit noticed about the woman was that she was a Tiefling. Her curved ram-like horns grew cutely above her pointed ears and out of her glossy blue-black hair that fell in bangs around her warm face. Tieflings were known for their otherworldly looks, due to their demonic heritage, but this one was exceptionally pretty. Full lips, thick lashes surrounding lustrous gold eyes, and a body that looked to lithe and shapely to be real. The only things that made her a little strange were her horns and the curved tail. She wore form fitting studded leathers with a long sword strung across her hip and a bag that appeared to be full of small tomes and scrolls. Hanging from her back was an elegant unstrung lute that appeared a tad bit battered from travel and precarious situations.

"Well my name is Minka, nice to meet you finally." Her voice was soft and pleasant. Kit had a hard time imagining she was a Tiefling, a race nationally despised and prejudiced as untrustworthy thieves and demon worshipers.

"Kit," She responded stiffly. Everyone here was too friendly.

"Charmed. Well lets just get to the point shall we? The guild was impressed by your skills and would like to accept you as a trial member, to test your other skills of course," she gestured for kit to follow her. They made their way across to one of the other hallways, Minka talking as they walked. "I'll be one of your partners for your first mission. We'll be investigating a crypt in the north. Rumors have it that there may be treasure down there and we intend to find it!"

"Partners?" Kit asked hesitantly.

"Yes you'll function as part of a team. Dungeons are riddled with danger and you'll need people of various skills to survive." Minka explained. "You don't know any magic do you?"

"Uh, no."

"Well then you'll need a team. There's a lot of danger out there that those daggers of yours won't solve." As Kit and Minka traveled through the elegant halls of the Guild Headquarters, She was reminded of how dirty and miserable her life was, and felt ashamed. She felt inexperienced and filthy, and suddenly wished she had never came. Minka looked back at her and smiled. "Don't worry, you'll be fine."

"Thanks." Kit tried to smile back, not really comfortable. They continued for a few minutes, passing various rooms, a library and personal quarters until they came to a larger door at the end of the hall. Pushing open the doors, Minka ushered Kit inside. The room was shaped like the inside of half of a sphere, with stars and other astral objects carved into the wood celing. In the center was a large featureless globe with a number of metal rings wrapping around it, all floating idly above a small pyramid on the floor. There were several tables near the edges of the room, from which several more people stopped their conversations and rose to meet their guests. A few of them walked over to Kit and Minka reaching out for friendly handshakes.

"N-nice to meet you! The names Neero, cerebremancer extraordinaire, planar expert, and mycologist." The first said to Kit as he weakly shook her hand with his pale white hand. He was an albino with long pure white hair and friendly pink eyes. While he was a mage as signified by his robe and spell book, he was more physically fit than most that Kit had met before, with a strong jaw and broad shoulders. He carried a long crooked wooden staff with an amethyst crystal embedded in the tip and his bare chest was etched with a variety of colorful tattoos that seemed to shimmer and move in the light. He wore a large pendant and various other necklaces and his smile was wide with straight teeth.

The second to approach her was a tall Half-elf with black hair and a predatory look to him. He shook her hand firmly but briskly, muttered his name and then retreated back to a seat alone. He was tall and quite handsome with piercing blue eyes glowing out from under his hair and hood but there was something off about him Kit noticed, and a hungry beast-like aura surrounded him. He wore dark clothing of elfish design with a large bow and a quiver packed with arrows strapped to his back.

"Well now that we're all introduced," Minka said cheerfully. "Who's ready to plunder these catacombs?" Minka and Neero cheered loudly while the half-elf and Kit remained silent. "Officer Gravelfist will debrief us on our first mission as a team." The Tiefling explained as a fiery haired dwarf with gold eyes and garbed in full plate strutted over to the globe. He spoke gruffly while placing his hand upon the sphere a map of a snowy forested area appearing around his hand.

"You'll be traveling north of the Nelmoore, and into the Ridge Forests just below the Snow Desert. There is an abandoned Dwarven crypt lost in the forest that has been buried under snow. It is believed that it connects to a mining complex that we found an entrance to. It will be your job to go into the mine, find the crypt and bring back any treasure you can find. The guild will then go in, providing you find anything, and retrieve the rest. This crypt is completely green, no guild operations in the past, so be wary. Our intel is limited at best, we've got nothing on what could be down there. As the scouting party normal guild rules apply, anything you find you get and distribute amongst yourselves but the guild gets thirty-percent of the total horde. You've been licensed for snow gear and it's waiting for you in the portal room along with your gate. Any questions?"

"No sir!" everyone aside from Kit responded.

"Then move out!" The dwarf yelled back. The group rose and Kit followed them out, confused, frightened, and excited for her first mission.

…+…

Cain smiled as he watched his small army of goblins and acolytes pour into the crypt. The Dark queen had finally given him his orders, the war was beginning.


End file.
